This text has been transcribed from Johnson's Letters (1958); the
manuscript, which is in private hands, could not be located. Since Johnson did not
represent Dickinson's physical line breaks, the line breaks here are his, not
hers. For additional information on Sarah Jenkins, see Thomas H. Johnson,
Letters (1958), Appendix 1. For a related fragment, see A 361 (about 1877 [THJ]).

< jl506.txt.1; letter >
You deserved a Tiding - before - dear -
Your little punctualities are generous and precious.
Vinnie rode last Twilight - with Austin and the Baby, but the
latter cried for the Moon, which saddened their Trip. He is an ardent Jockey, for so
old a man, and his piercing cries of "Go Cadgie," when they leave him
behind, rend the neighborhood.
There is circus here, and Farmers' Commencement, and Boys and
Girls from Tripoli, and Governors and swords, parade the Summer Streets. They
lean upon the Fence that guards the quiet Church Ground, and jar the Grass, now
warm and soft as a Tropic Nest.
Many people call, and wish for you with tears, and Vinnie beats
her wings like a maddened Bird, whose Home has been invaded.
So much has been Sorrow, that to fall asleep in Tennyson's
Verse, seems almost a Pillow. "To where beyond these voices there is peace." I
hope you are each safe. It is homeless without you, and we think of others
possessing you with the throe of Othello.
Mother gives her love - Maggie pleads her own. Austin smiles
when you mention him. He told me that one of the fine Nights - the Tenants of
your House sat in the Door together, and he remarked to Sue - "Those are [not]
for whom I built that Parsonage."
Daisies and Ferns are with us, and he whose Meadow they
magnify, is always linked with you.
Emily.